


Naughty or Nice

by Myx



Series: The Good Place: Secret Santa 2018 [1]
Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Beard Kink, Beards, Christmas, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Santa Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 21:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myx/pseuds/Myx
Summary: Michael ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he looked out of the window in his office closest to his desk. On paper, his 14 million point plan (though, he had a feeling that he would bump that up to 15 million points if he kept on flying through reboots), was flawless; there was no way that any human would figure it out that his neighborhood was the bad place. Eleanor, however, was the exception to this rule as she had figured out 120 of the past 124 reboots. If he was blowing through these reboots, he might as well have a little of bit of fun himself. After all, what good is torture if everyone is miserable, including him?





	Naughty or Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steadfxst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steadfxst/gifts).



> I don't own anything. 
> 
> I am flagging this as dubcon mostly because this takes place during the reboots. That said, there is a moment in the fic in which Michael directly asks Eleanor for consent. 
> 
> Prompt: Golden, rose scented, and soft

Michael ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he looked out of the window in his office closest to his desk. On paper, his 14 million point plan (though, he had a feeling that he would bump that up to 15 million points if he kept on flying through reboots), was flawless; there was no way that any human would figure it out that his neighborhood was the bad place. Eleanor, however, was the exception to this rule as she had arrived at the 'this is the bad place' conclusion 120 of the past 124 reboots. He decided that he would do something special for the 125the reboot as if he was blowing through these reboots, he might as well have a little of bit of fun himself. After all, what good is torture if everyone is miserable, including him? As he absentmindedly scratched his lower back ( _What was the point of itching anyways? Stupid human meat suit._ ), he had a thunderbolt moment. He knew what he was going to do for reboot 125: Christmas.

Humans, for whatever reason, really put a lot of energy into this seemingly stupid holiday. There’s so much stress, anxiety, hope, desperation, joy, sorrow, sadness, happiness, anger, confusion, and self-medication that goes into one, singular day. It was only fitting that he would not only mimic this day during his next reboot, but he would also embody Santa Claus, in order to really sell the idea. He had a lot to do in the next twenty minutes before Janet would be officially back online and his demon co-workers would start getting antsy. 

* * *

"Eleanor.” Michael casually leaned up against the door frame leading into his office, taking extra care in ensuring that he flashed his architect smile in the way that he knew gave Eleanor an oddly calming sensation. “Come on in.”

Based upon Eleanor’s stunned facial expression, and her just barely noticeable quicken pulse, Michael knew this reboot might be different. Michael could see the electricity in her veins and smirked after she walked into his office. _Showtime_.

Michael showed Eleanor to a seat in front of his desk and Michael took a seat behind his desk. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “Hello, Eleanor.”

Eleanor raised her eyebrow. _She's uneasy, be careful._ “Hello?” She looked Michael up and down. “Is there a reason why you’re wearing a holiday sweater?”

Michael smiled as he leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk. “Naturally, Eleanor. You’ll find that today is Christmas in the afterlife!” He flicked his fingers and a fully decorated Christmas tree with presents underneath it appeared in the corner of his office, along with lights and golden ornaments lining the windows.

Eleanor laughed, her concern lessening dramatically. “Really? The afterlife? So this is like heaven, then? I guess the fact that it is Christmas explains why you’re dressed like Santa.”

“Yes. You, Eleanor Shellstrop are dead, and while this isn’t heaven per se, this is The Good Place. And, being I am Santa, rather, a _hipster_ Santa, I can grant you any of your holiday wishes that you have ever had. What do you want me to grant for you?”

Heat started building in Eleanor’s cheeks and her lips parted. “Even…”

“Yes, Eleanor, even the holiday wishes that you merely thought but never told anyone. Just like that song, Santa Claus is Coming to Town says, ‘he knows if you’ve been bad or good-‘”

“Good to know you know about that, Santa because some holiday wishes are decidedly not good.” Eleanor licked her lips and leaned forward in her chair.

“Again, Eleanor, what holiday wish do you want me to grant for you?”

Eleanor crawled on top of his desk and sat down on his lap. She took a finger and traced his jawline shivering at the roughness of the fine hairs of his thick, white, and short beard that matched his hair. “You already know the answer to that question, Santa.” She nipped at his neck.

Michael hissed. “I know, Eleanor.” He wrapped his fingers around her throat, applying a very light pressure. “But, I need you to say it, Eleanor. I am unable to grant it without you saying it.”

Eleanor moaned at the sensation of the long, slender, and powerful fingers around her throat. “I want you to fork me, Santa. I need you to fork me, Santa. You know I mean fork, and not fork, right? Ever since I saw that ‘hipster Santa’ in Tempe when I was 22 and I sat on his lap, I’ve wanted to fork a hipster Santa. There’s just something delicious about a well groomed beard, a tight fitting holiday sweater, and glasses that really gets me in the holiday spirit.” She glanced down. “I certainly hope you have the goods, Santa.”

“Rest assured, Eleanor, I am very well equipped. I know exactly what you mean by fork, Eleanor.”

Michael moved his hand from around her throat and cupped her ass with both hands, squeezing lightly. Eleanor started to unbutton her long sleeved plaid shirt, but Michael growled at her.

“You’ll take that off when I tell you to take that off, Eleanor.”

“Yes, Santa.” She replied, shocked at how quickly she succumbed to him.

“Good girl.” Michael nipped at her neck, intentionally rubbing his beard on the sensitive skin. Eleanor moaned at sensation. Michael slid his hands up her body, tracing her soft curves until he reached the top button of her shirt that Eleanor had already unbuttoned. He unbuttoned the rest of her shirt and let her take it off. He unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. “Beautiful, Eleanor. Absolutely beautiful.”

He planted kisses down her neck until he reached her bust line. Her nipples were erect and hard. He gently bit them and rubbed his beard on her swollen nipples, enjoying the pleasant noises of his beard meeting her nipples and the equally pleasant noises of Eleanor’s gasps and moans.

“Oh fork, oh fork. Santa, I’m so ready!”

“Patience, Eleanor. Patience.”

Michael pulled her up so she was standing on top of his lap and had her place her arms around his neck for stability as he undid her jeans and beckoned for her to step out of them. Once she was out of them, Michael tossed them aside and he slid his hands up her legs, caressing the soft, supple skin of her thighs and splayed out his hands across her hips, his index fingers playing with the silky fabric of her panties. Eleanor stifled a moan and slid her hands into Michael’s hair and pulled his head back gently. Michael barred his teeth and growled low and deep. Using his finger nails, he slid her panties down to her ankles and lifted her up so he could throw the pesky undies away from him. Eleanor shivered at the sensation of his nails on her skin. He sat her down on his lap and encouraged her to raise her hips forward. She took that one step further and put her legs over his shoulders, her hands still entangled in Michael’s hair. He took his index finger and inserted it carefully inside of her.

“Fork! C’mon Santa. Please, please put in one more. I can take it.” She whimpered while contracting around his finger.

Michael snickered. “Oh, Eleanor. I know you can. I know you can take much, much, much more than one finger. But, why hurry up and race towards the end when the journey to the end is so” He bit down on her neck, sucking a welt, and humming at the sharp gasp from Eleanor. “Deliciously and wonderfully intoxicating?”

Michael inserted his middle finger inside of her and scissored his fingers, relishing the feeling of her walls around his finger and knowing how delicious it was going to be when it was his cock being hugged by her walls.

“Santa! Oh God. Oh God. Oh…”

Michael looked at her in nine dimensions and saw her body ignite with heat, energy, passion, and lust. _It is time, Michael._

Michael pulled his fingers out of Eleanor and hovered them around his nose, taking in her scent. _Rose-scented, as expected._ He threw her legs off his shoulders and removed her hands from his hair. He made eye contact with her and put his fingers in his mouth and licked her essence off her his fingers. Her eyes grew wide and she panted.

“Eleanor, you tasted so, forking good.” He purred in her ear. He placed her back on his desk as Eleanor whined. He removed and tossed his sweater aside along with his slacks, leaving only his blood red boxer briefs. Eleanor salivated at the now nearly nude Michael.

“Yummy, Santa. And I see you do have the goods.” She glanced down at his boxer briefs.

Michael chuckled. “Even though I’m not a human male, I still have all the working parts of a human male, in very reasonable proportions, with a few added bonuses.”

Eleanor raised her eyebrow. “A few added bonuses?”

“Crawl back over here and find out, Eleanor.”

Eleanor crawled back and sat herself on top of his boxer briefs. She moaned at the contact. “You feel incredible, Santa.”

“Just wait until I’m inside of you, Eleanor.” Michael licked his lips and traced the outline of the welt on her neck with delicate fingers.

Michael picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he slid out of his boxers. Carefully lining himself up with her, he thrust himself inside of her. They both grunted at the same time at the sensation. Michael rocked his hips in the way Eleanor always wanted her male sex partners to move their hips, and he dragged his finger nails all across her back. The harder and deeper he thrusted, the more he felt her loosing herself as she was starting to loosen her grip around his waist.

“Santa…..” Eleanor moaned out, breathlessly.

Michael slowed down his thrusts a bit. “Yes, Eleanor?”

“I’m so close. I’ve never been this wet in my life.”

“I know, Eleanor. But, you’re going to need to ask permission to come, Eleanor.” Michael purred in her ear.

“Okay, Santa.” Eleanor’s eyes fluttered back.

Michael picked up the pace and looked at her in nine dimensions, again. _She is very close. Any second now and she’ll start begging. Relish it. Tease her with it. Make her scream._ Michael nipped at her neck, her nipples, in an alternating fashion so he timed each nip with a thrust.

Eleanor screamed. “Santa, please, oh fork, oh please, oh..oh, God, please let me come. I need to come.”

Michael wrapped his arms around her, and purred, “Come, sweet girl.”

Eleanor came hard and fast as Michael exploded inside of her. _Finally._ Michael ignored the voice.

“Did we just come at the same time?” Eleanor asked fighting through her post-orgasmic, blissed out haze.

“Yes, Eleanor. One of the bonuses that I come with is that I always wait for the woman and being I know when you’re going to come, it is just polite, honestly.”

Eleanor laughed. “That’s pretty forking hot, Santa.”

Michael raised his eyebrow at her. “Holy fork, are you getting hard again?” Eleanor asked, her eyes growing wide in shock.

“I’m not a human, Eleanor. Remember that.”

“I’m certainly up for round two. But, can we fork in a bed this time? My legs are super crampy.”

“Of course.” Michael waved a hand and the desk in front of them became a four poster bed with soft sheets and silken, golden pillows. “Ta da.”

“Perfect. Come on up here, Santa. I want to feel you on top of me. I want you to engulf me cause you’re just so forking tall. This height difference is certainly working for me, Santa.”

Michael knew he was going to have to snap this all away at some point, but he could indulge a little bit more after all, he’d been playing ‘nice’ for the past 124 reboots, he deserved to act naughty a little bit.


End file.
